Stale Mate
by Alex L. Kerr
Summary: Two-shot. When you're running on fumes, it's nice to have your brother around.


**Stale Mate**

Both of them were exhausted, having just finished a typical case that required an urgent need to get out of dodge before they could be arrested. It wasn't new, but both Sam and Dean had lost a lot of sleep _during _the case, much less the time it took to cross two or three state borders. So, drained and exhausted, with only the Virginia border two hours away, they agreed on a rest stop at around 5:15 in the morning.

"I swear to god I've been to this exact rest stop, Sam," Dean said, blinking then rubbing his eyes at the sight as he drove towards the lot from the interstate ramp. Sam didn't look up from his book in the passenger seat.

"Unlikely," he murmured, and started chewing the straw of his soda again.

"No, I swear, look!" Dean gestured towards the windshield.

Sam glanced up at Dean, finally breaking from his book, and then towards the rest stop. The huge parking lot surrounded one massive building which housed several fast food chains advertised on signs outside every entrance. An outdoor eating area with plastic tables and umbrellas was visible on the west and north sides of the building. After his survey, Sam gave a laugh.

"What?"

"You're an idiot, Dean," Sam chuckled tiredly as Dean pulled into a space.

"Why?" Dean asked, confused. Sam moved to get out of the car and Dean followed him outside to hear his response. The two of them moved sorely next to each other as they crossed the parking lot. Sam waved his hand around their surroundings.

"The rest stops all along this, and other, interstates were built by the same contractor. They all look the same."

"What? But-" Dean trailed off as he stopped and looked around again. Sam was right, Dean realized.

"C'mon you need coffee," Sam smiled, beckoning Dean to get moving again. Dean started laughing at himself and got moving alongside his brother.

"You want me to drive the last leg?" Sam asked wearily.

"No I'm fine," Dean sighed. He looked around again at the building. "I can't believe I didn't pick up that they all look alike," he said as he shook his head, amused, and opened the door to the building for Sam. Sam chuckled as he walked through, but turned in Dean's direction behind him to reply.

"Whatever, this drive's been a blur to me, too," Sam replied good-naturedly. As they entered into the building, the sound of industrial refrigerators and air conditioners hummed loudly around them. Dean walked up next to Sam again and noticed his brother's eyes were somewhat half-lidded from exhaustion.

"Why haven't you been sleeping?" Dean asked casually as he searched for cash in his pocket as they approached the empty food court. Their voices echoed around the acoustic interior and the vaulted ceilings, of the building. Stripped of all energy, neither of them could muster their usual sarcastic banter. As a result, only short, genuine statements were ever spoken.

"Ah I just thought I'd keep you company; you're probably as exhausted as me, right?" Sam replied, aggressively rubbing an eye and then looking down at the cash in Dean's hand. Dean frowned with approval, nodding his head as he examined the bills.

"You're getting this?" Sam asked, not sure if Dean had enough in his hand.

"Yeah what do you want?" Dean looked up at the various fast food chains in front of them. Sam stopped questioning if Dean had enough and turned to squint at the restaurants, thinking about his answer. Sam gave a grunt of dissatisfaction at their choices. Dean noticed and sympathized, feeling similarly.

"These places are so gross-" Sam judged tiredly.

"-Yeah," Dean voiced over his brother, then looked at him. "What're ya gonna do, though, you know?"

"Um, uh, just… Coffee, I think," Sam shook his head as he stumbled over his words.

"You sure? Just coffee?"

"Y-yeah, um, yeah," Sam stuttered, then turned away. "I'm going to the rest room," he added as he walked away from Dean.

"Okay," Dean replied lightly, and turned off to pick up two coffees.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Dean was leaning against the wall outside and watching the somewhat overcast sunrise when Sam met up with him. The rest stop was dead quiet except for the sounds of birds chirping and the occasional trucker zooming past them. Dean heard Sam approach and turned to see him, stretching his coffee out to his brother. Sam took it.

"Thanks," Sam nearly whispered: there was no need to be any louder. Sam took a sip and noticed the bag crinkling under Dean's hand. "What'd you get?"

Dean shrugged.

"Couple egg mcmuffins. Got you a couple plain croissants from the bakery," Dean said simply.

"Oh I like croissants thank you," Sam said absently.

"Sure thing," Dean murmured, pleased. He took another sip of his coffee and sighed with satisfaction.

The boys grew up with mornings like these punctuating their childhoods frequently and, in this exhausted state, the two of them would default to their most fundamental traits and, often, fall into old routines.

Sam was always exceedingly polite, even affectionate, towards Dean, but held off on talking to anyone else. Dean always handled the strangers: picking up food and asking for directions just as he had as a teenager.

Sam looked out at the sunrise Dean had been staring at.

"Nice day," Sam commented vaguely. Dean shrugged.

"Eh, it's overcast."

Sam took a gulp of his coffee and swallowed loudly.

"I like it when it's overcast. I don't have to squint."

"Funny… Because… Since you're _one_."

Sam gave Dean a double-take, then took another gulp of coffee.

"Yeah that didn't land," Sam said flatly, his lips quirking a smile. Slowly, the two of them softly started chuckling at the terribly delivered joke. Without thinking, they both started walking towards the Impala at the same time.

"Get in the car, smart ass," Dean said, finally, when they reached the Impala.

"You sure you don't want me to drive?" Sam asked conscientiously.

"Yeah no I got it," Dean answered, relaxed, as he opened the driver's side door.

As they climbed into their respective seats, Dean looked over at Sam again, then checked and adjusted the rearview mirror as he spoke.

"You should sleep if you want. I'll be fine, you know."

Sam turned to look at Dean, dark bags under his kind, earnest brown eyes.

"No I'll stay up. I'm drinking coffee, now, anyway."

"I got you decaf."

"What!" Sam asked, sounding harassed. "Why!?"

"Because this coffee is like mainlining caffeine; figured you'd want to sleep once we get to Virginia."

"What about you?"

"I have to drive."

Sam paused in his reply, annoyed.

"What the hell is the point of getting coffee if it's not going to keep you up? If I'd known you were going to get decaf I would've asked you to get me something else," Sam slapped his book shut and leaned over to throw it into the back seat. Dean looked at Sam apologetically.

"Really? I thought you liked coffee."

"It tastes… Fine, but I like… What it does to me," Sam struggled to explain, knowing it was translating oddly but unable to help it in this sleep-deprived state.

"That's what she said!" Dean shot back, smirking as he started the ignition. Sam couldn't help a chuckle as he rolled his eyes. The car pulled out, but Dean pressed on the brake softly when he spotted a sign around the side of the building. "Sam, look there's a drive-thru – what do you want instead? Orange juice?"

Sam shrugged and nodded which Dean immediately noticed. The car swerved around to get into the drive-thru lane.

"Cool, thanks," Sam said as they pulled up to the microphone. Dean made the order and as they pulled up, Sam added, "I'll still probably stay up with you, though."

"Really? Why?"

Sam shrugged.

"Just want to."

"Okay," Dean replied innocently. He unrolled his window to pay for the orange juice and handed it to Sam. As he pulled out of the drive-thru he asked, "Okay we good now?" He glanced at Sam. Sam nodded and shrugged.

"Yeah."

"Okay cool," Dean deftly palmed the wheel and accelerated out of the rest stop.

* * *

True to his word, Sam didn't fall asleep despite Dean's best efforts. Dean ate one of Sam's croissants. Sam drank most of Dean's coffee. The decaf was left cold along the passenger side door.

When they reached a suitable motel in Virginia, they both collapsed onto their respective beds, Dean closest to the door.

"Hey, Dean, you awake?" Sam whispered a few minutes after they'd both crashed.

"Um," Dean grunted, "Barely," Dean finished. Ever the resigned older brother, Dean would always respond to Sam. At this point, it was a reflex. "What is it?" He asked, not unkind.

"Do you think we'll ever get out of this life? Being hunters?" Sam questioned, his voice somewhat dreamy. Dean turned his head over on his pillow to look at Sam. A few moments of silence passed, Sam sensing tension where there was none.

"Go to sleep, Sam," Dean replied gently. "We'll talk about it when we're not, like, thirty-six hours deprived of sleep, okay?"

Sam gulped slowly and blinked, staring up at the ceiling. Dean looked at Sam with sympathy, but he knew the kid was just exhausted.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah, okay, Dean."

"Okay," Dean smiled softly as he saw Sam turn over onto his side, settling into the bed. Dean let himself drift, listening for Sam to fall asleep first. Less than two minutes later, satisfied with Sam's light regular breaths, Dean clocked out.

* * *

Writer's Note: I wrote this to capture a mood I'm particularly familiar with. Exhaustion, discomfort, and travel: when combined, it really does strip you of any/all pretenses: whatever's left is often very telling about who you/your comrades actually are as people. Then I couldn't end it and got to the motel room dialogue, finished, and came up with the title. I love this title, by the way, and its slightly depressing double-meaning. Please review! Cheers! ~ Alex Kerr


End file.
